Inopportune Moments
by rogoblue
Summary: It all seemed so simple. Until it wasn’t. Adelle DeWitt is in the business of using people, but some people are more difficult to use than others.


Story: Inopportune Moments

Rating: M

Author: Rogoblue

Summary: It all seemed so simple. Until it wasn't. Adelle DeWitt is in the business of using people, but some people are more difficult to use than others.

Spoilers: Season 1.

Disclaimers: The toys are Joss Whedon's. The idea is mine.

Pairing: Dominic/DeWitt (sort of)

"Who's Laurence?"

Adelle DeWitt's heart stopped. "I beg your pardon," she whispered, forcing herself to face her companion.

Amused blue eyes stared back. "C'mon, Adelle," he said, picking at the remains of a scone on his breakfast plate. "You called me by another man's name at a highly inopportune moment. I have a right to the question."

"I did no such thing, Bryce," Adelle asserted, holding her cup of tea before her as though it was a shield.

"You did," he said, leaning back in his chair, casually sipping his coffee. "Twice."

_How did this go so terribly, horribly completely wrong?_

* * *

22 Hours Earlier

A sleek, stylish woman in her late twenties prowled Adelle DeWitt's office. "My husband has blinders on when it comes to his daughter, Ms. DeWitt," she said, hand coming to rest on a peach silk clad hip as though posed. "He looks at Jenna and sees the ten year old with scraped knees, not the twenty one year old slut who attempts to seduce every attached man who sets foot in the house. It's a nightmare, Ms. DeWitt. I don't dare entertain. Not even a simple dinner party. Jenna interjects melodrama into everything!" Clasping her hands together, the woman sank into the chair adjacent to Adelle's. "My two best friends won't speak to me, because she made their husbands practically foam at the mouth. One has filed for divorce. The other is in couples counseling. Again. Jenna has to be stopped."

"What is it you would like us to do for you, Ms. Hartnett?" Adelle asked, frowning at Boyd Langton's restless movements as he hovered at the edge of her peripheral vision.

"My husband needs to see Jenna for what she is," Charlotte Hartnett said. "I want a man she pursues to speak to Gavin privately about it. He'd listen to the sort of man Jenna chases, if I could get one to speak up about her promiscuity."

"What sort of man does Jenna prefer?" Adelle asked, smiling in encouragement, all the while knowing Charlotte required none.

"Good looking, successful and in an established relationship." Spreading her hands before her as if begging for understanding, Charlotte said, "Jenna seems to need to steal a man from someone." Shrugging in a way that approximated a shudder, she added, "I suppose she sees it as a challenge."

"Mr. Langton, please bring me our portfolio of male actives," Adelle said. "I'm sure we can accommodate, Ms. Hartnett." Accepting the binder Langton offered, Adelle offered it to Charlotte.

Eagerly, Charlotte thumbed through the binder. Adelle smiled as she hesitated over Victor and Romeo. Ms. Hartnett reached the end of the binder and began again, going slower, frowning. After her second pass, Charlotte said, "Jenna likes older men."

"I assure you, all of those men are older than twenty-one," Adelle said.

"I know that!" Charlotte nearly hissed. "But Charlotte goes for men closer to her father's age. Like him," she said, gesturing grandly to Langton. "I'm not sure if Jenna would take him for a spin, but it's worth a try."

Not reacting to the somewhat strangled noise Boyd made, Adelle said, "Mr. Langton is not one of our actives, Ms. Hartnett."

"So you can't help me?" Charlotte whispered, deflated, defeated, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was assured you could." Straightening her shoulders, recovering with remarkable rapidity, Charlotte said, "No matter. I'll try Chicago or New York, perhaps Vancouver. One of those houses might have someone suitable."

Adelle swore silently at the mention of the competition. "One moment, Ms. Hartnett," she said. "Mr. Langton, please hand me my laptop computer." Accepting the device, Adelle searched for a suitable photograph. "Here we are," she said, turning the screen toward Charlotte.

Laurence Dominic wore a black, perfectly cut suit. The two tone blue striped dress shirt and delicately patterned tie brought out the color of his eyes. His intense expression was lightened by the barest hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Yes," Charlotte said, smiling in a not nice manner. "Yes, yes, and again yes. If he's articulate at all and doesn't fall over his own two feet, he's completely Jenna's type." Charlotte offered her hand to Adelle DeWitt. "When can we have our lost weekend?"

"Weekend?" Adelle asked, eyes darting ever so briefly to Langton.

"Absolutely," Charlotte said. "I want to savor this. Besides, we live well out of the city. It only makes sense for guests to stay." She frowned. "Well, it would if it weren't for Jenna's antics." Rising to her feet, Charlotte asked, "Who will Jenna steal him from?"

_Who indeed?_ "Will I serve?" Adelle asked before she could question the impulse.

Charlotte nodded, gesturing to the computer. "Taking that man from my dear, new best friend Adelle? That'll work."

Adelle DeWitt saw Charlotte to the door and wasn't surprised to turn and find Boyd Langton staring down at her laptop.

"You should send Sierra or Echo, just in case," Langton said.

"No, Mr. Langton. The just in case scenario is mine to play out."

* * *

"Who is he?" Boyd Langton asked Topher, as they both watched Bryce Dennard/Laurence Dominic wait for Adelle DeWitt in her office.

"Our lawyer," Topher muttered, chewing on the straw of his apple-white grape juice box.

"Our lawyer?" Boyd said.

"We have a stable of them," Topher replied, gaze never leaving the screen. "Bryce man is one of many."

Sighing, Boyd managed to avoid rolling his eyes. "Why is Mr. Dominic's imprint that of a lawyer of ours?"

"Boss lady doesn't want to strain her acting muscles by having to play a role 24/7, so we give her an attorney who knows which of our closets have resident skeletons." Topher pointed at the screen with his juice box. "We are underway, man friend."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Ms. DeWitt," Bryce/Laurence said, coming to his feet with the effortless ease she remembered.

"I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Dennard."

Grin tugging at his lips, Bryce/Laurence said, "I wouldn't mind you being in my debt."

Adelle allowed him a moment to note her decidedly casual attire of an open throated sand colored linen shirt and matching pants. She said, "I'm sure you wouldn't."

Undoubtedly puzzled by the slight edge in her tone as well as the clothing, he asked, "What favor?"

"I would like you to allow yourself to be seduced away, or nearly so, from a committed loving relationship with me by a stunning twenty one year old young woman and discuss the matter with her father subsequently."

Bryce/Laurence opened his mouth and closed it without speaking. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if suspecting a joke. Adelle merely looked up at him expectantly. "We don't have a relationship beyond attorney-client," he said. Lowering his voice, he added, "Not for lack of trying."

_One of these days, Topher, your sense of humor will get you into serious difficulty._ Adelle smiled slowly. "Of course we do," she asserted.

"When did this committed loving relationship of ours … um … begin?" he asked.

"Over three years ago." The words were out of Adelle's mouth before she considered the implications. To avoid thinking about them, she added, "Don't you remember? We had lunch at that lovely Italian place and walked on the beach for hours afterward. I asked you, because I'd have had to wait forever for you to make the first move."

"No, I don't remember, because we haven't done anything remotely like that. And I have made the first move. More than once. And been shot down for my trouble. Also more than once. What's this really about, Ms.—?"

"Adelle," she said. "You only call me Ms. DeWitt when other people are present." She smiled, not quite willing to admit enjoyment of the exchange. "Obviously."

Glancing around the room as if looking for other people to justify continued formality, Bryce/Laurence said, "We have had some bizarre conversations in the past, Ms. … um … Adelle, but this one ranks near the top."

"Bryce, I need you to do this for me, because I don't have an active who fits the bill."

"This is crazy." Bryce/Laurence shook his head and crossed his arms in front of him.

"It'll be fun." Eyeing Bryce/Laurence closely, Adelle sauntered toward him. "Haven't you ever wanted to be a spy?"

"No," Bryce/Laurence said, looking down at the hand Adelle had put on his shoulder. "Why would I want to be a spy? I can't imagine a life more stressful than that." He sighed. "Except maybe yours."

"Pity." Adelle turned away, directing her attention out the window. "I was rather looking forward to some time away from everything."

"Don't think about playing the guilt card," Bryce/Laurence said. "I won't do this because I can't. I'm not an actor, Ms.—Adelle." Adelle didn't react to his annoyed grumble. "See what I mean?" he asked. "I can't even get the name thing straight. There's no way I can do what you need me to do."

"You won't have to act," Adelle said, meeting stressed blue eyes calmly. "Much."

"How do you figure?"

She smiled at the familiar unbridled sarcasm even as she noted the uncharacteristic relaxed stance. "I've arranged for a driver to take us to the Hartnett's house, so we can converse, among other things, on the way."

"Among other things?" Bryce/Laurence asked, eyebrows lifted.

"Yes," Adelle said, sliding her hand from his shoulder to the small of his back. "We'll need to be comfortable around each other to make this believable. Don't you think?"

"I said, 'No,' Adelle."

Unbuttoning his suit coat, Adelle stepped into full frontal contact and stared into Bryce/Laurence's eyes, daring him to look away. He didn't, except to close his eyes briefly when she moved against him.

"What … what exactly are you offering?" he asked.

Her smile promising everything and nothing, Adelle whispered, "What … what exactly do you want?"

"Damn it, Adelle!" Bryce/Laurence held her by the shoulders and stepped back. "Don't play me. Just don't. We've known each other a long time. I deserve better from you."

Reassuming her previous position, Adelle murmured, "I'm not playing."

"You most certainly are."

Shaking her head, leaning back as little as possible, Adelle slowly, surely, predatorily untied his tie. "We don't need this over the weekend, do we?" She laughed. "At least not wrapped around your neck."

"No, but—."

"Excellent," she interrupted, slipping it off, folding it carefully, tucking it in the pocket of his suit jacket. Frowning, she muttered, "Too many buttons."

After she unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, Bryce/Laurence said, "Adelle, stop."

"Why?" she asked, unbuttoning another and a third.

"I've said, 'No,' I think three times now."

"I heard you," Adelle said, running a fingertip along the base of Bryce/Laurence's throat. "It's just that I need this."

"What?" he said.

Wondering how persuasive her effort at appearing flustered would be, she said, "Your help." Eyes on his throat rather than his face, she said, "I need your help, Bryce."

"You aren't going to talk me into this," Bryce/Laurence said.

"I wouldn't presume to try."

"Good," Bryce/Laurence said.

Smiling at the top fastened shirt button, Adelle DeWitt pressed against the firm body she'd admired for some time.

"Damn it, Adelle." His soft tone held a hint of defeat.

Resting her cheek against his shoulder, sliding a leg between his, Adelle caressed his chest with a feather light touch. She smiled when she felt his hands at her waist. Allowing him to urge her even closer, Adelle whispered, "Please, Bryce."

"That isn't fair," he muttered.

On the cue of her use of the word please, her phone rang. "I'll be right back," she said, gently extricating herself, feeling Bryce/Laurence's eyes on her as she answered. "Our car is waiting," she said, smiling. "Are you going to disappoint me, Bryce?"

* * *

Boyd Langton frowned at the monitor when Bryce/Laurence disappointed him by agreeing to accompany Adelle DeWitt. "What was the point of having him be reluctant, Topher? Why did she have to talk him into it?"

"She wanted anti-Dom, I think," Topher said. "No secret agent characteristics, tendencies, vibes or accessories. None. So that's how Ivy and I teed him up."

"Was his prior history of rebuffed overtures your idea or DeWitt's?"

Topher smiled, big, mildly goofy, extra specially self congratulatory. "Mine, all mine, man friend."

"Why?"

Eyes widening, Topher asked, "Why not?"

"Why?" Boyd persisted.

"How else do we launch the two of them into a loving committed relationship in an hour and fifteen minutes?" Topher consulted his watch. "Maybe an hour and twenty." He tossed his juice box toward the trash and missed. "Unless there's traffic. We give him a history of attraction to our ice queen."

"DeWitt doesn't share that history," Boyd noted.

"Not that history, no," Topher agreed, falling into the nearest chair as if suddenly exhausted. "She has the other one."

"With Mr. Dominic?"

"The one and only."

"How does that help the situation?" Langton asked.

"I quote the gospel according to Ivy. Two people don't routinely stand that close together or move that well together if they aren't … together or seriously contemplating it." Topher threw out his right hand. "Hence the inescapable conclusion that DeWitt was, and probably at some level still is, suffering from Dom lust. If not, she'd have sent Echo and had an ever so British muted chuckle over the irony." Dipping his head in a mock bow, Topher asked, "Do we have audio and video in the car?"

* * *

"Wine?" Adelle DeWitt asked, smiling at the fidgeting man seated beside her, offering him a glass of red wine.

"This isn't going to work," Bryce/Laurence said, accepting the wine, staring at it as though it might argue with him. "Adelle, I'm sorry, but it's not."

"It will if you stop fretting and relax." Beginning to regret her decision as to certain imprint parameters, Adelle said, "The wine will help if you let it."

"Fretting?" he mused. "I don't think anyone has accused me of that before."

Adelle took a sip of wine to set a good example. Bryce/Laurence followed it. "We've been together for over three years," she said. "I don't believe in the institution of marriage and you've gone along with my view that as long as we're committed to each other who gives a damn what the state of California or any church has to say concerning the matter." Pausing for more wine, Adelle was pleased to see that she had his attention. "You're a romantic, given to the more than occasional grand gesture. I'm more reserved in expressing my feelings and revealing their depth." Sighing, Adelle said, "This litany is not for your amusement, Bryce."

"Of course not," he murmured, looking out the window, undoubtedly to hide a smirk.

"You're surprised I accepted this invitation, because I generally prefer not to socialize on my own time, because I'm forced to attend many social functions in the course of my work at the charity foundation. You had to rearrange your schedule to accommodate my desire for a weekend away, which you were all too pleased to do despite the inconvenience to your partners."

"A man in love does what he's told," Bryce/Laurence said, still looking out the window. "If he knows what's good for him."

"Indeed." Adelle turned Bryce/Laurence's head toward her only to be surprised by his contemplative expression. "What are you thinking?" she asked. He shrugged and looked away. Patiently turning his head again, she said, "Bryce, what is it?"

Bryce/Laurence cupped the back of Adelle's neck with one hand. Giving her plenty of time to make her decision, he pulled her closer. Eyes locked on hers, he kissed her, making slow, gentle and thorough work of it. In tandem, they put their stemless wine glasses in holders designed for them. Adelle allowed Bryce/Laurence to lift her onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in the same manner as he had her. Raising an eyebrow at his slight smile, Adelle asked, "Now what are you thinking?"

Lounging back somewhat, Bryce/Laurence pulled Adelle with him into a more horizontal position. "Do I satisfy you physically in the loving committed relationship I'm having difficulty remembering?" he asked.

"Completely," Adelle said, placing his hands on her breasts.

He laughed as he coaxed her nipples erect. "Are you trying to bolster my confidence?"

"I'm stroking your fragile male ego," she replied before teasing his lips open and tempting his tongue with hers. "I could find other things to stroke, if you'd prefer." The last word ended in a moan in response to a sharp twist of one of her nipples.

"What happened to the prim and proper English girl your parents raised?" he asked, kissing her harder, demanding more attention.

"She dallied with far too many American men." The pressure of desire built within Adelle, inciting restless movements of her hips.

"What's wrong with American men?" Bryce/Laurence whispered, untucking Adelle's linen shirt.

Adelle gasped. "They have cold hands." Her complaint didn't deter him from caressing his way back to her breasts beneath her shirt. "What's wrong with prim and proper English girls?" Adelle asked.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Don't tell me you have fantasies about young, nubile, school uniform clad English girls," Adelle said, trying to put something approximating a true warning in her tone.

"I won't."

His hands stimulated her breasts relentlessly, the silk of her bra both adding to and detracting from his efforts. Their mouths dueled to a draw. Adelle's vaunted control slipped a notch or two. Instinctively, she pulled away but was halted by the lazy smile on Bryce/Laurence's face. Before she recovered her aplomb, he pulled her against him, her back to his chest. Lips at her throat distracted Adelle from the tug on the drawstring of her linen pants. Her hips bucked of their own accord when one of his now warm hands slid below the waistband.

"You're so beautiful when you let go," Bryce/Laurence murmured in her ear, eroding her control still further with his voice and clever fingers. "It's like you're lit from within or something. And, God, I think I'll die a happy man if I hear that needy whimper again. Please, Adelle, rewind that tape."

A pang of panic flew through Adelle. She tried to sit up, but Bryce/Laurence held her, bit her throat lightly and did something with his forefinger that almost sent her over the edge.

"Yes," he whispered. "Thank you, Adelle. I love that sound."

She floated in a haze of lust, close, closer, ever closer. Adelle controlled nothing, not her movements, her voice, her impending orgasm. Her hands flew out, grasping for purchase on something, anything, finding nothing to latch onto, no way to anchor herself. Increasingly desperate for release, Adelle moaned his name. Getting no satisfaction, she tried to keep his hand where she needed it, but Bryce/Laurence had his own agenda.

"Trust me, Adelle," he said. "We'll see if we can make this a little better for you."

"No," she groaned. "I can't wait." A brief time later, Bryce/Laurence altered his rhythm. "Yes," Adelle panted. "This … you … yes." Her orgasm moved through her like a series of electric shocks. The pleasure was almost too intense at first and Adelle was trembling by the end. Huddled in Bryce/Laurence's arms, she struggled to reassert at least a vestige of her typical control. When she felt able to speak calmly, Adelle said, "That was magnificent."

* * *

"Wow," Topher whispered. "That was hotter than hot. I'm freaking disturbed by DeWitt being smoking hot. You with me on that, man friend?"

Boyd Langton stared at Topher in disbelief. "The whole scenario is disturbing."

"It is?" Topher asked, impish grin in place.

"She called him Laurence, Topher."

Splaying his hands to the sides, Topher said, "That would be his name."

"Not at the moment, it isn't."

Topher stood to put a hand on Boyd's shoulder. "It's a big part of what we do, man friend. We build lovers to spec. We used Dom as the framework to keep things familiar enough to steer clear of discordant. Then we made some improvements to attitude, dialed down the moodiness and aggression and swept away the guardedness and facility with deception. Bryce man," Topher gestured to the screen, "is a neuroscience masterpiece. He's pretty close to who Laurence would be if he wasn't playing Mr. Dominic. Maybe a little less of a smartass, but pretty close otherwise."

"I fear for your sanity, Topher," Boyd said, not quite under his breath.

* * *

Bryce Dennard/Laurence Dominic stepped out of the car and crossed around behind it to offer a hand to Adelle DeWitt. She licked her lips as she gazed up at him, reminding him of how quickly she'd brought him off earlier. Adelle had been too damn gorgeous in coming for him to last long.

"Adelle, we're so pleased you could make it," Charlotte Hartnett said, coming down the stone stairs of the front porch to give Adelle a hug. "And this must be Bryce," she said, turning to Bryce/Laurence, smiling. "My goodness, you didn't exaggerate."

Bryce/Laurence glanced at Adelle, asking, "Exaggerate?"

"I might have mentioned you have stunning eyes," Adelle said.

"What did you label the rest of the package?" called a voice from the porch.

"The asker of inappropriate questions is Jenna," Charlotte said, voice tight with tension.

A hand on the small of Adelle's back, Bryce/Laurence walked toward the porch and a drop dead gorgeous, entirely too young brunette with sexy green eyes who wore not much at all.

"Hi, Bryce," Jenna said, her breast brushing his arm as she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Jenna," he said, sliding his hand to Adelle's hip to hold her closer.

Fixing those amazing green eyes on Adelle, Jenna asked, "What do you call him?"

"Mine," Adelle said, smiling to lighten the moment.

"Smart lady," Jenna said, inclining her head to Adelle. "I like you already." Looking sidelong at Bryce/Laurence, she asked, "The guys usually want to see dad's cars. Are you a car guy?"

"What exactly is a car guy?" Bryce/Laurence asked.

"A coveter of Ferraris," Jenna replied, grinning up at Bryce/Laurence's widened eyes. Taking his hand, she said, "C'mon, the stable is out back."

Digging in his heels, Bryce/Laurence said, "I should—."

"I can manage our bags, Bryce," Adelle said, waving away any protest. "Go and look under as many hoods as you like."

_We have luggage? I guess we do if we're staying the weekend, but I didn't pack anything. _

"Dinner is in an hour, Jenna," Charlotte said, tone cool and clinical but failing at detached.

"No prob," Jenna said, not looking back, shifting from holding Bryce/Laurence's hand to taking his arm.

* * *

Adelle DeWitt stared across the table at Bryce Dennard/Laurence Dominic. His attention was riveted on the young woman to his right. They were arguing about American football, a topic that bored Adelle out of her mind. It had been this way since the seven course dinner had been served—Bryce and Jenna with their heads together talking, laughing, smiling. Jenna's hands were rarely still and strayed to Bryce/Laurence's person with annoying regularity. Bryce/Laurence was having a great time. The bastard.

"Shall we retire to the salon for Cognac?" Charlotte asked.

"Past time," Gavin Hartnett muttered. "Agree, Bryce?"

"Hmmm?" Bryce/Laurence said, finally looking away from Jenna. Ears catching up with the conversation, he said, "Definitely, Gavin. Well past."

"Ladies," Gavin said, rising, gesturing to the French doors on the south wall of the room. "I'll pour for anyone who cares to partake. You'll join me, Bryce?"

"Absolutely."

"Me too, dad," Jenna said from her position far too close to Bryce/Laurence for Adelle's liking. Looking up at Bryce/Laurence, she said, "I enjoy fine things."

"Don't we all, sweetie," Gavin said, ushering everyone away from the table toward after dinner beverages. "Cigar?" he asked Bryce/Laurence.

"No, thank you. I never acquired the taste."

"Smart man." Gavin grinned, "Smarter than me at any rate."

"I don't know about that," Bryce/Laurence said. Gavin's arm around his shoulders, Jenna's around his waist, he moved to the salon.

For the thousandth time, Adelle's eyes were drawn to well muscled forearms, exposed when he'd no doubt discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to poke around Ferrari innards. Realizing Gavin was holding forth, Adelle focused her attention.

"Jenna and I love it. You should try it Bryce."

"I don't know, Gavin. That's not really my thing."

"Please, Bryce," Jenna said.

Adelle nearly snarled at the way Bryce/Laurence's head swiveled to face Jenna and how his eyes fixed on her parted lips. "Sure," he murmured. "Ok, Jenna."

"I told you she's evil," Charlotte whispered in Adelle's ear.

"Tomorrow morning then," Gavin announced. "I'll look forward to it." Raising his glass, Gavin said, "A toast to new friends. To Adelle and Bryce, welcome to our home. Honor us by treating it as your own."

They drank.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Adelle asked, looking up from the memoir she was reading.

"To do what you asked," Bryce/Laurence muttered, tugging on one of his shoes. "Jenna was very detailed in her description of the location of her bedroom."

"Tonight?" Adelle asked, putting down her book.

"Why not get it over with?" he said.

"Get it over with?" Adelle repeated with a laugh. "You couldn't take your eyes off of her all evening."

His laughter held bitterness. "Not while you were looking."

"I beg your pardon."

"When you looked at me, I looked at her." Bryce/Laurence ran a hand through longer than usual blonde hair. "When you looked away, I stared at you like … How did Jenna put it? Like I desperately want you to want me as much as I want you. She thinks I'm using her to make you jealous and it pisses her off royally. She wants to take me to bed to make me see the error of my ways, but she's afraid I'll take her to bed solely to remind you of what you have."

"Are you certain you aren't a spy, Mr. Dennard?" Adelle asked, suddenly self conscious in her deep blue silk, thigh length nightgown.

"Yes," he muttered. "I'm just trying to meet your expectations in a way that'll let me look myself in the mirror in the morning."

"I don't believe I have stated my expectations for this evening, Bryce."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands, sitting on the edge of the massive bed. "And they are?" he asked.

"Simultaneous orgasms occurring in this very room."

"But, you want … I mean, I thought …"

"All in good time, Mr. Dennard. Tomorrow is another day."

"Yes, but tomorrow I have to jump out of an airplane." To Adelle's puzzled expression, he replied, "They skydive. Gavin and Jenna. You heard me get roped into it, Adelle."

"All the more reason you should have phenomenal sex this evening and tomorrow morning," Adelle asserted. "Just in case your parachute doesn't open."

"Thank you for putting that thought in my head."

"Allow me to remove all thoughts from that location." Adelle pulled Bryce/Laurence down onto the bed. "In slow," she murmured, kissing him breathless. "Meticulous," she whispered, ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying. "Fashion," Adelle concluded, licking her way down his chest while working him ruthlessly through his slacks. She both felt and heard the seam of her nightgown give to Bryce/Laurence's frantic hands. Smiling at him, she challenged, "Take me."

* * *

Now

Wrapped in different sized versions of the same white bathrobe, Adelle and Bryce/Laurence sat together on the couch in their suite of rooms in the Hartnett house over a private breakfast.

"Who's Laurence?"

Adelle DeWitt's heart stopped. "I beg your pardon," she whispered, forcing herself to face her companion.

Amused blue eyes stared back. "C'mon, Adelle," he said, picking at the remains of a scone on his breakfast plate. "You called me by another man's name at a highly inopportune moment. I have a right to the question."

"I did no such thing, Bryce," Adelle asserted, holding her cup of tea before her as though it was a shield.

"You did," he said, leaning back in his chair, casually sipping his coffee. "Twice." After a pause of a few heartbeats, Bryce/Laurence said, "So …? Who is he?"

Meeting his gaze with more confidence than she felt, Adelle said, "Laurence Dominic. My former chief of security. Like yours, his eyes are very blue."

"Dominic?" Bryce/Laurence said, the eyes in question clearly startled. "The spy? The guy you put in the Attic?" At her nod, he took her hand. "Were you and he …?"

"No." She shrugged. "The time never seemed to be right."

Bryce/Laurence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You have some serious unresolved issues, Adelle. Shouldn't you … I don't know … Maybe talk to someone about this."

"Do you have a psychiatrist you recommend, Bryce?"

"I know a few. I'd give you the names if I thought you'd see one of them."

Curious despite herself, Adelle said, "You don't think I will?"

He shook his head. Bringing her hand to his lips, Bryce/Laurence smiled sadly. Voice low, steady and measured, he said, "You wouldn't need me to suggest it. You'd have already done it if you were going to."

Adelle couldn't breath. She couldn't shake the feeling that, at that moment, Laurence Dominic stared back at her.

"I'm jumping out of a plane," he said. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Shop, lunch with a few glasses of wine, shop some more, a cocktail or two and return," she said, inordinately grateful for his change of subject.

"If you're so inclined, think positive thoughts about my parachute opening," Bryce/Laurence said, standing, looking down at Adelle with obvious concern.

"Consider it done," she said.

* * *

Adelle DeWitt struggled with the door to their suite in the Hartnett house, dropping several of the myriad packages containing the bounty of a rare shopping spree. "Bryce?" she called into the shadowy room, having been told by none other than Jenna that he'd limped up the stairs on a gimpy ankle from an awkward landing. The silence was profound. "Bryce?"

"Out here."

His voice was low, tense and something else Adelle couldn't identify, but she followed it onto the small balcony. Bryce/Laurence sat with his feet propped up on the railing, staring into the gathering darkness. "How's your ankle?" Adelle ventured, admiring the fit of the dark blue jeans and crew neck, black cotton pullover.

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine," she whispered.

"My ankle isn't the problem."

Tiring of the clipped flat tone, Adelle challenged, "What is, then?"

"I understand now," he said, finally deigning to look at her. The desolation in his eyes shocked her.

"What do you understand, Bryce?" He winced but said nothing. Sitting down in the only other chair, Adelle placed a hand on his forearm. "What's happened? Have you had your discussion with Gavin already?"

"I read his file."

Adelle frowned. "What troubles you about Gavin Hartnett?"

"Laurence Dominic's file." His laughter devoid of humor, he added, "I was curious about … about how much I look like him. The reality was … unsettling."

"Dear God," Adelle murmured.

"Do you have any idea how profoundly depressing it is to realize you aren't real?" he asked, hand lifting to his cheek as if in an attempt to convince himself otherwise. "To know your body isn't yours and that your mind, memories and thoughts aren't either. That there's no fucking you for them to be." He stared at her hand on his arm. "Bryce Dennard is nobody. Nothing. Jenna Hartnett wants to have sex with a computer generated construct." He laughed again. "You already did, knowing the fucking score." Eyes lacking any sort of spark, he whispered, "And how was that for you, Adelle?"

"Bryce, I—."

"Don't call me that!" he snarled.

"What shall I call you?" she asked, determinedly not moving her hand, instinctively maintaining contact.

"Don't refer to me by name at all. That's the closest we can get to the truth." Lowering his head, he asked, "Why, Adelle? Why did you do this?"

"I didn't have an active of an appropriate age."

"And you couldn't just say, 'Sorry, I can't help you, Charlotte?' And why fucking help her anyway? Why should Gavin have to have his eyes wide open with respect to Jenna? Why can't he continue to see her as daddy's little girl who thinks boys have cooties? What gives Charlotte the right to mess with what obviously works for Jenna and Gavin?" Bryce/Laurence froze Adelle with his intensity. "You should've seen them today. They have a great relationship. And maybe, just maybe, that's who Jenna is looking for in a partner—someone just like Gavin. Is that necessarily a bad thing? That she admires her father enough that she wants someone like him for herself? Christ, Adelle, what gives you the right to screw with people like this?"

"It is my responsibility to oversee the use of the technology," she whispered.

"All Charlotte needed was enough money for you to service her. Where's the oversight in that?" Bryce/Laurence stood, gripping the railing tight enough for the veins in his forearms to stand out. "You're either the pimp or the prostitute. Either way it isn't pretty, Adelle."

"Are you quite finished?" she said.

"I've barely begun," he said. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Tell me, oh mighty overseer of the chair from Hell, why is it right for Gavin to have his vision of Jenna shattered rather than have his wife exposed as the insecure jealous bitch she is?"

"Charlotte came to us and—."

"And you've never told anyone to take a hike?" He made a rude noise. "I don't know for sure but I imagine so and I bet Dominic could name a few people you turned away."

"You were willing to do this as I recall," Adelle said, coming to join him at the railing. "What does that make you?"

"I'm nothing, remember."

"That's not an answer!"

"I said, 'No,' Adelle," Bryce/Laurence whispered. "We only got to, 'Yes,' because I wanted you so badly I couldn't see straight." Hands twisting around the railing as though he wanted to rip it free of its moorings, he said, "I guess your imprint person knows their business. Although, maybe not, because I've been trying to figure out a way to do this without needlessly hurting anyone."

"Acting creatively within parameters," Adelle mused. "Somewhat like Echo."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" he growled.

"Yes, it is."

"Save it for Echo, if it'll make him or her feel better." Letting go of the railing, Bryce/Laurence looked at his hands. When he stepped back, his left ankle gave on him. "Damn," he muttered, catching himself with a hand on the arm of his chair. "What I can't figure out is why this hurts so much."

"Your ankle?"

"No, this … this stupid situation. Why do I care so damn much that I don't exist if I don't exist?" He frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. "How can I mourn a guy who never was? Can I feel sorry for the guy who did exist that I didn't know? I'm so fucking confused right now and it's so damn frustrating that it just doesn't matter. Confused or not, upset or not, angry or not, I've got … What? Twenty-four more hours to my less than three days on the planet?"

"You exist, Bryce," Adelle said, stepping to his side, hand coming to rest at his waist. "You have impacted several lives. That's all any of us can lay claim to in the end."

"Impact is nothing without effect, Adelle. Impact is transient. What's the effect? A bruise or a scar? Will anything remain when I'm gone? Anything of me at all?"

"Memories."

"Memories fade."

Adelle hugged Bryce/Laurence and rested her head on his shoulder. Saddened by the tension radiating from him, Adelle said, "You feel as you do because Bryce is completely and utterly real to you. You have been imprinted with his past and his plans and wishes for the future. You're living his present. It's natural for you to—."

"Nothing about this is natural."

"A poor choice of word on my part," Adelle admitted. "It is the nature of the imprint process to place you completely in the moment. The knowledge you obtained about Laurence Dominic led you to understand Bryce Dennard has no short or long term future. That information has, in turn, led to these difficult feelings."

"How could you have sex with me, knowing what you know?" Bryce/Laurence whispered.

"That is the most straightforward question you've asked," Adelle said, risking a small smile up at Bryce/Laurence. "Laurence Dominic is an attractive man. Bryce Dennard is charming, engaging and creative at foreplay. I couldn't resist. What's more, I didn't wish to."

"But I'm not real!"

Starting with her hands on his shoulders, Adelle drew them down across his chest and over his abdomen. "Yes, you are."

"I'm an animated body without the matching mind. My mind doesn't match any body."

"Does it have to?" she asked, stroking his abdomen lightly.

"It ought to," he whispered. "Why did you do it, Adelle? Why put Dominic in the Attic in the first place?"

"He was a spy. He was caught."

"He was trapped. He was under your thumb. You could've controlled him. According to the whispers behind partially closed doors at Rossum, you should've. I … I think." Rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumbs, he muttered, "Damn it. Are those real memories or not? This is too fucking weird."

"I didn't attempt to control Mr. Dominic, because I don't believe that would've been possible. The mere threat of the Attic wouldn't have deterred him. Not for long."

"How do you know that?" Bryce/Laurence asked. "Did you explore the possibility? Talk it over with him? "

"No."

"Then you're just making an assumption to support your decision and haven't answered my question." Catching her hands in his, he asked, "Why put Dominic in the Attic when you're in the business of using people?"

"He betrayed me."

"How so?"

"He reported on our activities to the NSA."

Expression puzzled, he asked, "Did the NSA interfere in those activities in any way?"

"No."

"I'm not seeing a betrayal with any teeth to it here. Was he selling you out to anyone else who interfered with you?"

"I don't believe so," Adelle said.

"Working with anyone else to your detriment?"

"I'm not sure."

Bryce/Laurence sighed. "So why'd you do it, Adelle? Really."

"He lied to me and made me look a fool."

"Ah." He spun on his sore ankle and grunted in pain.

"What are you thinking?" Adelle demanded, circling him to face him again.

"I never figured you for, 'You made me look bad, so I'll show you.'" Caressing her cheek softly with the back of one hand, he said, "Funny thing about retribution. It's never enough."

"Meaning?"

"He pissed you off. You put him in the Attic. Satisfying, for a while. But not anymore. This interlude aside, Dominic's up there, not knowing who he is or why he's there. That's the problem, I think. He should know. He should remember who put him there and why. But you can't do that, because that would defeat the purpose of having him in the Attic. What can be done about this unsavory situation?" Bryce/Laurence made a show of deep thought. "And what happens? Along comes an assignment that has the potential to be humiliating on more than one level. The client wants a certain type of guy. Do I know a man meeting the general requirements that I wouldn't mind seeing humiliated first hand? Yes I do. And here we are."

"According to your elaborate theory, I slept with you why?"

"I'm not sure you want me to speculate."

Anger building, Adelle said, "Please do."

"His body does these nice things for and to me. See how desperate I can make him. Feel how hard he is. At some level, he might even be aware of who drove him to those incredible orgasms. He doesn't have any power over me. He can't deceive me any more." Bryce/Laurence took a steadying breath. "He doesn't have to, Adelle, because you're deceiving yourself."

"And what is the precise nature of my self deception?"

"In thinking this impacts what happened between the two of you at all." He kissed her gently on the cheek. "This doesn't put you one up on Dominic. This plants him firmly on the moral high ground vis a vis you."

"I don't follow your logic."

"He was doing his job, Adelle. You're taking revenge."

"I'm doing my job, Bryce. I'm completing Charlotte Hartnett's engagement."

"One you chose to take on, knowing you didn't have the right active."

"You just said I should use Mr. Dominic, rather than keep him in the Attic."

"You should have used him to control the flow of information to the NSA in addition to the job he was paid to do and did well."

"How could I have trusted him?"

"Do you trust anyone completely and without question?"

"Not anymore."

"Then you don't have to trust people to use them, but you couldn't. Not him. Because you trusted him once with nearly everything." He sighed. "Don't you see, Adelle? It's not the betrayal of your secrets or the fact that he lied to you or made you feel foolish. You can't forgive the betrayal of your trust."

"There is no need for me to do so."

"Then understand and accept that you made it personal, not Dominic. If you ever get there, that'll be proof I existed, because I'll have changed something of substance."

"Are you going to go to Jenna and then Gavin or am I to refund Charlotte's payment?"

"I'm going to do this my way."

"Fine," Adelle said with all the coldness and distance she could muster. "Do get on with it, Bryce."

Spinning on his good ankle, Bryce/Laurence went inside without a backward glance. Adelle stood, hugging herself against the chill of a gust of wind, feeling a tear meander down her face.

* * *

"That was well done," Adelle DeWitt said as she poured two glasses of red wine in the back seat of their hired car.

"Thank you," Bryce Dennard/Laurence Dominic muttered, swallowing hard, trying to get control of his rapid shallow breathing.

"Here's to making a lasting impact," Adelle said.

His hand shook when he raised his glass to touch rims with hers. They drank.

"Getting Jenna to admit she felt threatened by Charlotte's relationship with Gavin, first to you and then to her father couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't hard, Adelle," Bryce/Laurence said, frowning at the unsteadiness in his voice. "She wanted to talk about it. And she practiced her speech on me. I forget how many times. The part with Gavin was more difficult."

"I wouldn't have anticipated that." Looking every inch the calm, cool and collected director of the Los Angeles Dollhouse in her fitted silk blouse and slim cut skirt, she asked, "How so?"

"Gavin couldn't believe he needed to reassure Jenna."

"The man thought Jenna knew she needn't challenge his new wife to secure his attention or esteem?"

Holding his wine glass with both hands, Bryce/Laurence nodded. "I had to prompt him a bit. It's a good thing he wasn't on the stand, because any objections as to leading the witness would've been sustained."

Leaning back into the plush comfortable seat back, Adelle noted, "I believe I'll take the credit for preventing the prosecuting attorney from entering your courtroom."

"Thanks for keeping Charlotte out," Bryce/Laurence said, looking out his window, then hers. "Made things go a bit smoother."

Adelle ran her fingers through his hair. "Would you like me to ask the question about your treatment?"

"No. I don't want to lose any of the time I have left."

* * *

"He knows he's imprinted," Boyd Langton breathed. "How is that possible, Topher?"

The neuroscientist shrugged. "Maybe DeWitt told him in an afterglow moment of perfect honesty."

"Is he stable?"

"He's spiking emotional off the chart," Topher admitted, typing rapidly to reset the boundaries of his graph. "Way off. But that's not necessarily a problem."

"Could he hurt DeWitt or himself?" Langton asked, wondering if there were any security options available to address the potential threat.

"I'm not seeing violence, man friend," Topher said, staring at his screen, flipping between readouts. "Plenty of anger, sadness, despair, desperation but no violence. I say we let this play out."

"Agreed," Boyd said. "For now."

* * *

"Does it hurt?" Bryce/Laurence asked, holding his wine glass relatively steady while Adelle poured him a second glass. "Being wiped."

"Yes," she said, watching him closely but endeavoring to appear casual.

"Good."

"Good?" she felt compelled to ask.

"Something like that should hurt."

"There will be less pain if I ask the question I mentioned before," she said, unable to resist the impulse to take his hand.

"Don't," he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I want to feel whatever for as long as I can."

"All right. I do my best, you know." Adelle smiled into frightened yet curious eyes. "To use the technology responsibly."

"You're human. You'll make mistakes."

"Not this one. Not again."

"What?" he asked, doing a reasonable approximation of a smirk. "Bryce doesn't rate an encore?" Looking away, he quickly appended, "Don't answer that. I don't want to hear the word."

Turning his head back toward her with gentle pressure, Adelle said, "Whether I'm in charge or not, imprint technology will be used and, sadly, abused as well."

"Better the devil you know, I guess," Bryce/Laurence muttered.

"I hope so." Frowning, Adelle watched him drain his second glass of wine. "Dutch courage, Bryce?"

"Any port in a storm, Adelle." He leaned back and closed his eyes when Adelle took his glass to refill it. "I thought I was resigned to this. Damn, I thought I was ready to face it like I was a real person who had a pair, but …"

"You would be an imbecile if you weren't afraid." Adelle kissed him lightly on the lips. "An imbecile you are not."

"So certain are you?" he asked. Her puzzled frown tugged a small smile forth. "Yoda."

"Yoda?"

"Never mind. It's not important." Biting his lip, blinking his eyes rapidly, he murmured, "Nothing about me is, because there's no actual me right now and in an hour there'll be even less to write home about."

"What you did was important to Jenna and Gavin, even to Charlotte." Reluctantly giving over his third glass of wine, Adelle said, "Our discussions and other activities are important to me."

"Why?"

"You spoke the truth as you see it. There is always value in hearing that."

"And the … um … other?"

Staring into the blue eyes she will never forget and constantly miss, Adelle whispered, "I forgot the Dollhouse for a time. The value of that is immeasurable. Thank you, Bryce."

"God, you're smooth," he muttered, frowning.

Adelle caught his hand before he lifted his wine glass from its resting place on his thigh. Holding it there, she kissed him like they had all the time in the world to explore the possibilities that lay between them. "Something in me broke when I put Laurence in the Attic," she whispered. "I think you've repaired it."

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice low, intimate, holding a rumble of desire.

"Another treatment couldn't hurt," Adelle murmured, taking his wine from him and setting it aside with care. "If you're interested, I should say."

"I still want you. I'll always want you." A strange look Adelle couldn't interpret passed across his face. "For what it's worth, I … I think it's the same for … him. This … whatever it is I feel for you runs deep."

Tears welled in Adelle's eyes. "Thank you, Bryce."

Pulling her into his arms, he matched her soft, nearly inaudible tone. "Don't worry about which name you use. We both care."

* * *

Bryce Dennard/Laurence Dominic stared at the chair. He took a deep breath before lowering himself into it.

"Relax, Bryce man," Topher said. "I'll make this quick."

Adelle DeWitt took Bryce's hand and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Goodbye, Bryce."

"Bye," he whispered. "Don't forget, Adelle. Let me have meant something."

She nodded and watched his back arch and neck muscles contract in pain as Topher activated the chair. Four minutes and twelve seconds later it was done.

"I'll call someone to take him up back upstairs," Topher murmured.

"No," Adelle said. "Put Laurence back in there. It's time we had a conversation."

Topher saluted.

THE END


End file.
